Just Come Home
by RosaCantDraw
Summary: Set in World War One. Blaine has to leave for the war and whilst he's there certain things remind him of Kurt. Will he keep his promise to get back to his love?


**AN: **Okay, so I wrote this a few years ago for an English competition (with different names) but people pointed out that it would work as a Klaine fanfic. So here we are. It's set in World War One and just to warn you, it's pretty emotional.

Hope you enjoy it, and **please don't kill me.**

* * *

**Just Come Home**

Kurt smiled his dainty smile as he unloaded my pack from the back of the hire-car. We'd sat in silence all the way to the train station, not a comfortable silence either. We both just sat there, knowing that every centimetre we travelled was another step towards an indefinite goodbye. But, unfortunately we finally got there. The train station was full of other young men waiting to make the journey along with me: none of us wanting to even think about where we were going. The station was full of an eerie silence; only one or two exchanges were being made by the braver of the men, but a pleasant relief from the blistering cold weather outside. Kurt looked perfect, as always. His brilliantly coiffed, brown, snowflake ridden hair gently brushed at his ears. His sepia-brown coat carefully wrapped around his waist. I didn't dare look at his face. A face I'd seen many times over the past three years, almost exactly.

Still silence. Neither one of us had said anything to each other for over an hour. We stood there, studying another couple. They were both similar ages to Kurt and me, and obviously in the same situation. However, they were handling it differently. For a start they were talking: not only talking, but laughing. He held her waist in one arm and his pack with the other. She had both her arms around his neck, her hands caressing the nape of his neck and his hair. She tipped her head forward to reach his and they kissed. It was beautiful, the perfect couple. They were so in love.

At that moment, I felt Kurt's soft, delicate hand touch mine. I instinctively clasped it, I never wanted to let go. He turned to face me and stroked my untidy dark hair. I could feel his eyes burning into mine. I longed to return the gaze but it took all my strength to do so. His pale blue eyes stared into my murky hazel ones with a sense of urgency. He looked so afraid, so precious. I scooped him up into my arms, dropping my pack in the process, and kissed him: not caring if people stared. His soft lips followed the patterns and rhythms mine were leading. My hands grabbing at his back, his entwined in my hair. This moment stopped too soon, it would've always been too soon. His eyes met mine once more although this time the look was more sad than intense.

"Just...just come home." He said as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I will, I promise."

* * *

"ANDERSON!"

My name: above all the gunshots and screams of wounded. I heard it. Distant, but it was there. My back felt cold and damp. My eyes wouldn't open. I tried to make a noise, to let someone know I was here, but nothing would come out. My breathing was rushed and sharp. I felt cold rain on my face. Directly on my face, I must be horizontal. That's it! I'm lying down: my back against the cold, omnipresent mud.

"ANDERSON!"

The voice was closer now.

"What do you think you're doing boy?!" A different voice spoke - a much less kind one at that. The second was definitely not someone you would want to speak to.

"HE'S HURT, SIR!" the first voice answered.

"You will be too if you don't MOVE!"

Then I felt a damp hand against my cheek. Then the other hand at my wrist, feeling for something. A pulse, they must be looking for a pulse! I want to tell them I'm fine, but I can't! I wish I could get up and walk away, but I can't! The voices are still murmuring.

"I'll take him to the nurses!" The first, kind voice said.

"FINE, TAKE HIM! Stupid boy." The second voice replied. I get the feeling that he'd rather leave me here to die, in one way or another at any rate.

I feel two strong arms lift my limp body away from the cold mud, and we begin moving.

* * *

He looked beautiful: no, stunning. Just like when I met him 1 year prior. He opened the door, the light from the hall like a stark relief from the dark autumn night. His faultless silhouette leant gently against the doorframe. He was perfect, at that moment, absolutely perfect. He smiled and looked directly into my face. My face must have shown my astonishment too obviously because he giggled – a perfect lovely giggle. He stepped out into the frosty winter's night and revealed the details of his appearance. Beneath his brown coat, he was wearing a midnight blue suit that showed his muscles off to the fullest possible ability. His delicate face beamed at me. His cheeks shone a rosy tint against his fair complexion. Sometimes I wish he just had one fault, to make this whole situation more even.

"Hello Blaine. You look..." he stifled a laugh, "dashing."

"Charming as always, Kurt," I replied with a laugh, "Are you all ready to go?" he nodded in response, closed the door behind her and took my extended hand. "You look, breath-taking tonight."

"You _always _say that Blaine!" he teased.

"And I always mean it." I leant forward and kissed his heart-shaped lips. I felt him smile underneath my own as I kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you too." he replied shocked at hearing those words escape my lips for the first time.

My heels tap the ground as they returned there from tip-toes. His scent breezed my way - it smelt of summer, roses and fresh air.

* * *

The smell of acid hit my nose like a tonne of bricks. It is a foul smell. It smells too clean – a smell I haven't smelt in a long time. I was lying down again, only this time on something a hell of a lot more comfortable. The rain had stopped, so I assume I'm inside.

"How is he Doc'?" A familiar voice speaks: kind and soft. He must be the man who carried me here. Why is he still with me? I don't _think_ I know him.

"It's not looking good, son." A more professional voice spoke now, but not the same as the stern man before.

A sigh, "Is there anything I can do for him?" Why does this boy care so much about me?

"Just...make him as comfortable as possible."

Two sets of footsteps, one leading away from the bed, and the other – slower - right towards my head. I hear someone sit down. "Blaine?" he knows my name, "Listen mate, the doctors don't seem too positive about you recovering. I just want you to know, if...if you don't, I'll personally deliver the news to Kurt. You remember Kurt, right Blaine? I miss him too. It's not often I'm away from my step-brother for this long, or any of my family for that matter. Anyway, that's not the point right now. The point is, if – heaven forbid – you don't survive this one, he won't be alone. He'll have me. That's a promise mate."

Finn! Of course, it is! Finn Hudson, Kurt's step-brother. I was supposed to be looking out for him, not the other way around. This is all wrong. Kurt told me to look after him.

Ah, Kurt. Of course I remember him, Finn. Who could forget the first time we met?

* * *

Another party – there had been so many of them recently. That's the trouble with Christmas time. My parents felt obliged to go along to every single one we got invited to. They thought it important to meet the new neighbours.

"Cheer up, Blaine," my father had told me before we left that night, "A new neighbourhood means a fresh start. Don't mess this one up."

I was so frustrated with him! _A fresh start_? I never a wanted one in the first place! But no, I was still forced into it. Just as I'd been forced to attend tonight's proceedings and at least be civil. And I had been civil. I hadn't moaned once when the Turner's from number 30 had told me about the first time they met; or when the Richardson's told me about all the Christmases they'd shared together as a family; or even when the youngest Robin's boy had done nothing but stare at me. Oh, I'd wanted to, but I didn't. Even if it meant that I now had a permanent scowl etched to my face.

But then I saw them, the perfect family. A family of four; a father, a mother, an incredibly tall boy, and – the reason they'd caught my eye – a far more delicate boy. They were all perfect examples of human beings. The father looked to be a man of upstanding and dignity. The mother was delicate, yet fiery. Their son was tall, lanky with dark brown hair and a fair amount of muscle.

But their other son was breath-taking. His hair fell in thick blond-brown locks to his ears. His hands folded across his waist. He was average height, no taller than 5'11" by my estimate, and slim. His pale skin showed off his dazzling blue eyes perfectly. His pink heart-shaped lips were curled down at the corners, suggesting that he wanted to be there about as much as I did. He was truly stunning.

He walked over to me. I froze.

"Hello," his voice was like a wind-chime that sent shivers down my spine, "I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel."

* * *

I feel suddenly tired, as if my body just doesn't want to work anymore. My breathing is slowing down. My body feels heavy, yet light all at once.

My eyes can't open. My hearing is all that reminds me that I'm still alive. The sound of Daniel's gentle breathing next to me comforts me. But then even that's gone. Then it's just black.

* * *

**AN:** Yeah, please don't kill me.

**I'd love some reviews! Don't be shy, anything at all.**

Thanks for reading. And I _should _be updating my other fics soon so watch out for that.


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